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It's not that he isn't good at relationships. He simply doesn't do relationships, any relationships but especially those of the non-platonic kind. Not since Stacy. The only exception to the rule is Wilson, but Wilson doesn't count... not really. Their friendship has somehow slipped under the radar, sneakily, and dysfunctional as it is, it seems to be there to stay. That one aside, though, House sticks to the plan. Relationships are complicated and messy, and they always end with the other one expecting too much, or him not being able to give enough (similar, but not quite the same thing), or with lies and betrayal of some kind.
Fate must be a cold, cruel bitch, because that's the only way he can explain how he ended up in a relationship with someone who he knows to be needy and demanding, who has as many issues as House himself (if not more), and who has already betrayed him once. On the other hand, maybe if the betrayal and the lies happen before the sex... well, maybe that diminishes the chances that it will happen again and leave the relationship in scatters later. Or perhaps not. You cannot apply logic to relationships. You can never apply logic to anything with actual people involved.
***
"So," Chase said, too casually to actually be casual, one night when Foreman and Cameron had long since gone home and it was only him and House in the office. "So, if I had handed in my resignation, would you have tried to convince me to come back too?"
House was surprised - and maybe just a little bit impressed – that Chase had the gall to go there, but that didn't mean that he'd let him get away with it. "It's kind of a moot point. Considering that you crawled to Vogler so you wouldn't lose your job, I doubt that you'd have left willingly in the first place."
The sharpness of his tone was supposed to be both a warning for Chase not to go there, and a reminder that he was still angry, but it didn't seem to perturb Chase.
"But if I had, would you have come to get me back?"
"You haven't. You made your choice, and I have no time to play 'what if' with you," House retorted. It came out too harsh and bitter, too much like House cared. Too much hurt, too little anger. House bit his lip.
The air of confidence Chase had oozed finally slipped, and he looked unsure for the first time in that absurd little exchange. And still, he forged on. "Just pretend I'd made a different choice. Would you have let me go, or not?"
Obviously, Chase was trying to wear him down by being annoying. "Maybe. Maybe not. I suppose we'll never know, will we?" was House's non-answer, which he hoped would end the conversation. It didn't, of course.
He had already slipped on his jacket and was halfway down the corridor when Chase followed him and asked, "If I had insisted on a date with you, would you have agreed?" There was only the barest hint of a smile on Chase's face.
This was getting ridiculous! Either Chase was really set out to annoy him, or he was trying to point out (in a backwards way) that leading Cameron on had been wrong.
House wasn't willing to give him the satisfaction. He gave Chase a long look of mock contemplation. "Probably," he finally said, waiting a beat to deliver the punch line. "You look like someone who puts out on first dates." He stepped into the elevator without looking back.
It wasn't until Chase slid in beside him and said, "I do," with a sly, sideward glance, that House realized that he had been wrong about Chase's intentions.
***
Logical or not, he can't stop trying to figure this one out. Trying to understand how it happened, how they got here, how a caustic, not-quite hostile but certainly not friendly exchange of words in the office turned into regular occurrences of waking up with his nose buried in tousled blond hair and fights over who would get to eat the last cookie in the box.
It's terrifying and domestic and wrong, even if - or maybe especially because - it doesn't feel as wrong as it should. It's an exception to his every rule, an anomaly, a mystery; so House does what he does with every other mystery. He tackles it, looks at it from all sides, dissects it and mulls over it until he finally figures it out. Except that this time, he can't figure it out.
It just doesn't make sense.
***
They solved the case, like they always do. But sometimes, diagnosing the disease wasn't enough, and sometimes, they just weren't quick enough. Little five-year-old Tommy Winston was dead before the marker on the whiteboard had dried. Cameron stood there, red-eyed and shell-shocked, looking like she couldn't make up her mind whether she had come to House for comfort or if she was there to comfort him. He knew she didn't mean anything of it, she was just being herself, but he couldn't take her tonight, so he sent her home with words that were perhaps harsher than necessary and most likely reassured her belief that he was a heartless jerk.
He would have done the same to Chase, except Chase silently worked the coffee machine and then handed him a cup as if it was the most normal thing in the world. House took it and raised a brow, but Chase just shrugged and slid into another chair, starting to write up the report for Cuddy. There were no offers of sympathy and no pointless small talk.
When he had finished his coffee, House stood and limped over to fetch his coat. He was trying to decide whether to leave silently or offer a 'good night' - after all, Chase had made him coffee - when Chase threw him a curve ball.
"Do you want company tonight?"
He hadn't expected the question - neither now, nor any other time. That thing with Chase... somehow, he assumed that it would be a one-time event. It was good, it was easy, and it hadn't changed anything; but in his experience, nothing that easy would stay easy for the long term.
If there had been any trace of need or pleading in Chase's tone, House would have easily turned him down. But it was just an offer, not exactly casual, but emphatically low-pressure. It was his to take or leave, and he found he didn't want to leave it.
***
It's four a.m. on a Wednesday night that he decides that extreme situations call for extreme measures, and that maybe it's time to hear a second opinion. He dislodges the arm that was thrown over his body in a manner which is perhaps casual, maybe possessive, and definitely disturbing. Rolling onto his back, he pokes Chase until the younger man finally stirs and opens his eyes, and then pokes once more for good measure.
Sleepy is apparently a good look on Chase, even when there's a frown furrowing his forehead, and his tone is somewhere between deeply-annoyed and too-tired-to-care. "Wha'?"
"How did this happen?" House demands, motioning with his hands between them as a further explanation, and Chase's frown deepens.
"You need me to draw a diagram? Or should I just get you a sex ed book?"
"Oh, don't be cute! Just because you have big hair doesn't mean you can get away with everything. You know what I mean. How did we get to a point where you have more of your clothes in my house than in your place?" Of course, that's not quite what he is asking. Chase's clothes aren't the issue, and neither is the waking up together, or the cookie stealing. Those are just the symptoms.
***
"What was that about?" House wanted to know, stepping through the lab door Cameron had just left swinging wide as she stormed out.
The blush darkening Chase's pale face was as pretty as it was suspicious. "Nothing."
People lied all the time. And sometimes, they lied really badly.
House didn't even bother to dignify that one with a response. He held Chase's eyes until Chase looked away. It didn't take him long to win that particular staring contest. "It was stupid," Chase finally admitted.
"Of course it was, otherwise you'd have told me right away. So?"
"I...I said something about how- how she needs to get over you." Chase flinched, as if he expected an outburst. And while a part of House was ready to call whatever was going between them off, because obviously Chase was jealous and getting possessive and that meant they were way past the 'easy' stage, he was mostly just amused. And maybe a tiny bit flattered.
He raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying that she's allowed to sleep with you, but not with me?"
Some of the worry eased from Chase's features. "Well, she's not in love with me."
That wasn't the point at all, and they both knew it, but House chose to let it slide.
***
Chase looks as if he wants to argue for a moment, before he visibly deflates. "Do we have to talk about this now? It's in the middle of the bloody night. We have to work tomorrow."
House just stares at him. He knows he could say something along the line of, 'You're awake, I'm awake, so why not use the opportunity to have a chat?' but why bother with talk when a good, long stare has the same effect.
Eventually, Chase sighs in defeat. "If you're asking me if I planned this from the moment I told you I'd put out on the first date, then the answer's no."
Good to know, even when it hadn't been what he's asking. House almost points out that he hasn't asked Chase because he blames him, but simply because he hopes that together, they can figure out an answer. He doesn't, though, and Chase sighs again and runs a hand through this hair, which in response falls even deeper over his forehead, before he goes on.
"I don't know." He sounds awake now, and frustrated, and that's good because it's almost exactly how House feels. "I didn't mean to get so... attached." He almost spits the word out as if it's something vile. "It just happened."
House almost snorts. Things don't 'just happen'. There's always a cause, a starting point where someone made a choice or a decision or a mistake, and it could have gone the other way. Action/reaction forces, cause-and-effect, the philosophical crossroads of life and all that.
He wants to say so, but before he even gets as far as to open his mouth, Chase asks, "Does it really bother you so much?"
***
When he came to, Cameron didn't sit in the chair next to the hospital bed. Chase did.
"If you're just waiting until I kick the bucket so you can steal my CD collection, I'll have to disappoint you." House winced at the sound of his own voice, raspy and appallingly weak. Still, it seemed to be enough to reassure Chase that he was going to be okay, judging from the smile on his face. It was a nice smile, House thought - even though he'd rather swallow his tongue than admit it.
"Your taste in music sucks. I was hoping I could steal your Gameboy. Or, in case you live, I thought I could just annoy the hell out of you while you can't defend yourself."
He couldn't quite hold back the smile. "Ah, today's youth – no respect for their elders!"
"How about you make a quick recovery and then teach me a lesson in respect?" Chase asked, without missing a beat. He stood and sauntered out of the room, throwing a smug little smirk over his shoulder as he left, while House was still trying to come up with a suitable reply. For once, he didn't mind letting Chase have the last word.
***
House thinks about cause-and-effect and about all the things that can go wrong: misunderstandings, expectations that can't or won't be met, being too close or not close enough, lies, half-truths, betrayal. He closes his eyes and thinks about ways to answer Chase's question.
Chase's hair brushes against the skin of his arm, soft and almost too familiar, and when House looks at him again, Chase has propped himself up on an elbow and watches him intently. It's as if the anxiety and the urge to unravel and figure out and discuss all dissolve in an instant. He knows the sleepy smile on his face lacks its usual edge, but maybe it's alright, just this once.
"No, it doesn't," he says softly.
Just because he doesn't do relationships, usually, doesn't mean that he can't be good at them.
End.